It's Friday and 5:00p.m. Somewhere

Infidels, another week is passing. As usual, it's been a hectic week. I have been short with words, but do offer you some lyrics from the great American Poet, Jim Morrison. As I've stated before, before the music died, artists could and were encouraged to create art. The music was reborn in every decade. In the 60's, it was the Beatles. In the 70's, it was Pink Floyd and the Sex Pistols. In the 80's, it was the Post/Punk New Wave Movement. In the 90's, it was Nirvana. When Nirvana died, the music died with it. Nothing new or innovative. Nothing with depth or creativity. Everything now is more or less bunk. So here's a toast to the Age of Aquarius, the Soft Parade, by Jim Morrison of the Doors...........

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The Soft Parade, By Jim Morrison

When I was back there in seminary school
There was a person there
Who put forth the proposition
That you can petition the Lord with prayer
Petition the lord with prayer
Petition the lord with prayer
You cannot petition the lord with prayer!

Can you give me sanctuary
I must find a place to hide
A place for me to hide

Can you find me soft asylum
I can't make it anymore
The Man is at the door

Peppermint miniskirts, chocolate candy
Champion sax and a girl named Sandy
There's only four ways to get unraveled
One is to sleep and the other is travel
One is a bandit up in the hills
One is to love your neighbor till
His wife gets home

Catacombs
Nursery bones
Winter women Growing stones
(Carrying babies to the river)

Streets and shoes, Avenues
Leather riders selling news
(The monk bought lunch)

Successful hills are here to stay
Everything must be this way
Gentle streets where people play
Welcome to the Soft Parade

All our lives we sweat and save
Building for a shallow grave
Must be something else we say
Somehow to defend this place
(Everything must be this way
Everything must be this way)

The Soft Parade has now begun
Listen to the engines hum
People out to have some fun
A cobra on my left
Leopard on my right, yeah

Deer woman in a silk dress
Girls with beads about their necks
Kiss the hunter of the green vest
Who has wrestled before
With lions in the night

Out of sight!
The lights are getting brighter
The radio is moaning
Calling to the dogs
There are still a few animals
Left out in the yard
But it's getting harder
To describe sailors
To the underfed

Tropic corridor
Tropic treasure
What got us this far
To this mild equator

We need someone or something new
Something else to get us through

Calling on the dogs
Calling on the dogs
Calling on the dogs
Calling on the dogs
Calling in the dogs
Calling all the dogs
Calling on the gods
Meet me at the crossroads
Meet me at the edge of town
Outskirts of the city
Just you and I
And the evening sky
You'd better come alone
You'd better bring your gun
We're gonna have some fun

When all else fails
We can whip the horses' eyes
And make them sleep
And cry....